


Love, Ahch-To-ally

by sewn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Holiday Special (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, F/M, Food & Feeding, Force Ghosts, Force Sex (Star Wars), Gen, Hair Brushing, Jedi Training, Life day, Padawan Gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewn/pseuds/sewn
Summary: Holiday Star Wars fic snippets, of the Rey/Luke variety.





	1. Life Day on Ahch-To

It had been an exceptionally non-rainy day on the island.

Rey was sat on the verdant grass watching the sun-gilded leaves around her her sway lightly in the warm wind. She lay her palm on the ground, and just _felt_.

Ever since the day on the rock, it felt like her whole body was humming with a soundless melody, gently nudged by invisible motions. She touched the grass and felt the life there, and the death - leaves turning to soil, to begin life anew. She felt the roots, taking and giving. She felt the balance. The Force.

A rumbling sound from a little away broke her concentration.

"What's that, Chewie?"

She'd learned a little wookiee, but she'd never heard this expression before.

"He's talking about Life Day."

Her mas- Luke, she corrected herself, he didn't want her to call him that, Luke had returned from checking the fish-traps for garpon, and was standing there with fish scales dotting his fingers, glittering in the sun.

Rey stood up. "What's that?" She'd never heard of it.

"It's an old Wookiee day of celebration. A holiday to mark the passing of another year, and to come together as a family. To celebrate the harmony between all of us."

Luke said this a little wryly, but not without warmth. He glanced at Chewie.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I haven't really had an inclination to celebrate Life Day in recent years. I did not realize it was coming around."

Rey pondered Luke's explanation for a while. It didn't sound all that different from what she'd been thinking these past few days. Even in the midst of all this, mixed with all the confusion and uncertainty, there was harmony inside her. She knew she was in the right place in her journey, even if she didn't know where the road would lead her. When she thought of her friends back in the Resistance base, of Finn and BB-8... of Luke and Chewie... there was a feeling of family.

"Well, you might not have the inclination, but you have the company now," she said brightly. "Tell me about the traditions, Chewie."

Chewbacca roared pleasantly, then added a rueful sidenote.

"No Porg for Life Day dinner? I think we can manage."


	2. Noir!AU

The only thing that betrayed the woman's shock was a twitch of her jaw muscle as he flung the casefile on the floor.

"That case is closed."

His gravelly voice betrayed nothing.

He observed her. The woman - girl, really - was young, innocence still lingering about her, but there was steel to her posture. She was not quite what he'd expected. He knew some fresh-faced detective would track him down eventually, trying to get him out of his self-imposed retirement from the force. He was almost sorry he'd have to let her down.

"There's a new lead."

Her voice matched his in resolve.

"There's always a new lead. Believe me, you're not the first one to come knocking on my door." _But you're the first who snuck up on me_ , his mind supplied.

He was not eager to visit his demons. He'd already failed a young partner once. There was no going back after you'd directly turned a good cop criminal.

"You can show yourself out," he added, and turned to retreat back into his house.

She took a step closer, bent down to pick up the file.

"Not until I've shown you what I got."

He sighed. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Surprise Force Sex

It happens just as he enters her. Rey gasps and grinds her hips down without thinking, and the feeling of his cock sliding into her tight, slick heat is more intense than ever. Her hands, braced on his chest, curl into fists. Luke gasps, too, apparently surprised by her reaction.

"I'm sorry," she pants. "I - I can feel -"

She can't quite articulate it just yet, the sensations skidding over her sensitized skin. She's straddling him, as usual, his hands gentle on her hips, never pushing or pulling but simply holding on to her. They're not shy with each other anymore, but when they have sex it's still slow, still a little careful. The only injury she needs to worry about is beard burn between her thighs.

Now, though, it's like there's electricity running through her, a spark igniting somewhere in her from just this: from his skin agaist hers, before she's started to move. She feels so full, but she also feels -

She rocks her hips experimentally. Oh. _Oh_.

"I feel you," she whispers. "I mean, I can feel - myself. It's..."

She trails off, rocking her hips and letting the feeling wash over her. Every movement she makes, it's like the sensation bumps into another, and back again, an echo chamber of pleasure. She can feel her own core heat, not just as her own arousal, but how he feels it, how tight she is. When she clenches her muscles a little harder, she can feel his pleasure, too, and it makes her dizzy.

"Can you feel it too?"

He looks up at her with half-lidded eyes as he lets his hand travel up, raising goosebumps on her belly, and brushes a thumb over her already hardened nipple. From the surprised sound he makes, muffled behind his closed lips, she knows he can. She lets her own hands travel over his chest, lightly tugging at his chest hair, marveling at the tingling all over her body. She can feel what he wants, what he needs, how he's burning to take a firmer hold of her and just let go, pull her down with force so he can drive into her. And she can feel he feels what she wants.

And then she loses track of the origin of their shared desire, and simply lets herself fall into it, fall into his arms.


	4. Hair Care

It starts after a particularly physical training session in rainy weather on a muddy field.

Afterwards, Rey is soaked to the bone, her face dripping with muddied water, limp and dirty hair plastered all around. She wipes her face unceremoniusly with the back of her hand and stands up, not sure if she is really up for the next round. To her relief, Luke announces the day's lesson is over. It's also mildy embarrassing - it is sometimes hard to admit her strength has its limits, especially when it's just training. She feels like he senses hers more clearly than she does herself.

"We don't want to be caught outside in a storm," Luke says, glancing at the sky behind Rey. She turns to look and sees ominous towering clouds approaching. She's almost impressed by the way they glide through the light gray rainclouds, like soldiers invading a crowd. Another mild embarrassment - she's still in awe of a thing such as clouds. But they do fascinate her. She'd never thought there'd be so... many. By now, she's learned that the dark, high masses of clouds that are easily seen from the island are a harbinger of an oncoming storm from the sea.

They make their way hastily back to the cabin. Rey retreats to the small room he'd offered for her use and washes up quickly. After a cleanup and a change into dry clothes, she feels a little revived. The warmth of the cabin slowly seeps into her, and she returns to the shared space, toweling her hair. This is another new sensation: she was never used to her clothes or hair being damp for very long - the scorching sun on Jakku would dry everything up in a minute. Here, if she doesn't hang her clothes properly, they won't dry for _days_.

Her hair is still mostly a mess of wet, scraggly curls. She can't tie them up neatly just yet, so she sits cross-legged in front of the hearth. For all his supposed ascetism, Luke does have the benefit of caretakers who keep the fire alive. Rey is not about to complain. She concentrates on the flames, going through the day's training in her head like she's supposed to, letting her mistakes and achievements flow through her, to melt into her understanding of the Force and herself. After a while, it has become almost relaxing, and so she startles a little when she realizes Luke has entered the room and is preparing a warm drink for them. He doesn't talk, instead letting Rey get back into her meditation, as he calls it. Only after Rey stands up does he talk.

"Do you need help with that?" he asks.

It takes a moment for her to realize what he's talking about: her hair. She's been combing through her hair slowly with her fingers, trying to speed up the drying process, and has kept up the motion throughout her meditation. She lets her hands fall and accepts a cup of red tea. After a sip - it is _good_ to eat or drink something warm in a place like this - she is about to shake her head, but he continues.

"You shouldn't pull your hair so much while it's still wet. Let it dry first."

This isn't exactly what she expected Luke to say, but she also wants to argue back. If she doesn't straighten her hair out now, it'll become a tangled mess and impossible to comb through later. She tells him as much, but he gives her a look which he usually does when he's trying to impart knowledge of the ways of the Force on her. And so he tells her about how she shouldn't put so much strain on the roots lest she damage her hair for good, and sits her down to drink her cup of tea and enjoy the evening meal.

After they've done eating, her hair is mostly dry - but in knots, as she suspected.

"Come on, sit down here," Luke gestures back towards the hearth and the bench that stands by it. He takes the bench and Rey sits in front of him as he produces a fine-bristled brush from somewhere and starts working on her hair.

He is slow and methodical. It is weird at first, having someone touch her this way. The feeling of his fingers on her scalp sends warm little waves down her whole body, and the occasional brushes against her ears and neck feel almost too intimate. Luke seems at ease with the situation, though, telling Rey about his thoughts on her progress today and working through her hair bit by bit. The warmth of the fire, his hands going through her hair, and his quiet voice almost lull her to sleep, and she only barely catches herself when she's about to lay her head against his knee.

"There, all done."

He brushes through her hair the last time. Rey can't help but feel for herself. Her hair feels soft, silken, like it rarely is anymore.

"Thank you. How..."

He can guess what she's wondering about.

"Ah. My sister. She's very particular about her hair style, and, well, when options are limited, you teach your brother to be your personal hairdresser," he says with a wry smile.

Rey finds it quite hard to imagine General Organa sitting at her brother's feet having her hair done. But then, she finds it very hard imagining Leia and Luke being young and together, anyway. Hopefully she'll see their reunion soon.

"She also taught me about forty different types of braids. If you want yours braided, just ask me."

Rey isn't sure if he's pulling her leg, so she just laughs and asks him more about Leia, as he seems to be in a mood to talk about his past for once. But from then on, whenever she needs to sort out her hair, she lets him do it.


	5. Kata Training

This kata is difficult.

That's what Rey tells herself as she, once again, loses her pose and huffs in frustration. Her very real, failure-to-hold-arms-in-place-based frustration.

"Could you show me one more time?" she pleads Luke.

They've been slowly going through the motions of this particular kata all morning, starting from Luke guiding Rey's feet to their proper stations, his fingers gripping her ankles, calves and thighs gently but firmly. The sensation of his warm, real hand and the cool metal hand making her skin tingle, even through her breeches. It's distracting, the changes in temperature, she concedes.

Their progress with her upper body movements hasn't been any easier. When he wraps his fingers loosely around her wrist to guide her, his touch somehow feels even hotter. Maybe it's the weather. Yes, that's it, it's got to be the sun.

Luke gives Rey a quizzical look and seems like he's about to chide her for slacking, but he says nothing and positions himself behind her, hands on her shoulders. A minute tremble goes through her. The sun - and the wind. That's it.

"Keep it in your mind that the kata are a way of connecting to the Force. As you move your arm here -," Luke's words brush against her ear, his breath warm, as he encourages her to lift her arm, "- you'll feel it mirrors the way the Force flows outwards from you. Do you feel it?"

A shiver works its way through her body. Yes, she can definitely feel it.


	6. Replacements

If he minds her closing her eyes every time, he doesn't let on. Although, more often than not, they do it like this: in the dark, quiet except for the sounds of heavy breathing and skin on skin. It's just -

It's just that she likes to concentrate on his scent, something masculine and older, and the feeling of hard-worked muscle under lightly scarred skin. She breathes in deep, feeling like a little girl under his weight, secretly hoping for him to call her something, something like -

Her hand twitches as her fingers accidentally meet metal where flesh should be. If he minds her avoiding touching his artificial hand when they do this, he doesn't show it either.

Afterwards, she relishes the feeling of his strong arm around her, and wishes she could ask for a lullaby. For a bedtime story. Instead, she burrows into his chest. Likes feeling small for a while.

And if she minds that he likes to play with her hair, braiding it slowly and then working the braid loose before kissing her neck, she says nothing, either.


	7. Fried Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildly inspired by this prompt: https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1841.html?thread=2924849. But there's no salad or smooches. Sorry about that.

After darkness fell on the island on the first day since the girl’s arrival, Luke had resigned himself to the fact she was going to hang around for a while. She’d followed him all day, from shore to hilltop, silent and resolute. She didn’t repeat her demands out loud, for which Luke was grateful, but apparently she was going to stick to his side in the vain hope of wearing him down. So be it.

She even followed him when he finally settled down to cook. Luke usually prepared his catch outside; he scaled, gutted and filleted the fish, most of it to be dried for later. The rest would be his supper. He usually enjoyed this routine, but now he could not escape the girl’s unflinching stare. She’d sat a little way away, far enough to look respectful but in reality grating on his nerves. Luke refused to acknowledge her presence, but every once in a while he caught a glimpse of her in the periphery of his vision.

As he waited for the channelfish to fry, occasionally turning the thick cut, he finally spared her a proper glance. She sat with her arms around her knees, a curious look on her face. The flickering flames colored her hair auburn. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, and continued to stare at the fire as Luke stood up and went to fetch the rest of his meal, the fermented thala-siren milk and some bread.

He usually enjoyed his meal outside if the weather permitted, and he did so now, too, determined not to let her upset his daily routine. As he took the first bite of the freshly-fried, delicious fish, he saw her reach into her backpack and produce a vacuum-sealed pack of gray goop. It had been a while since he’d eaten survival rations, but the disgusting taste came back to him in an instant. Sure, it was sustenance, but it was highly questionable whether it could be called food. Watching the girl take a minute bite of the sludgy block made his stomach churn. Force, she was ruining his evening meal as well.

After a few more stolen glances at her pitiful nibbling at the corner of her meal, Luke sighed and put down his plate.

"Come here," he said.

The girl - Rey? - looked up, clearly surprised. Luke suppressed a disgusted shudder as she licked her lips as if trying to catch every remaining bit.

"I'm not asking twice," he continued gruffly.

She rose and scrambled closer, partially eaten survival pack still in hand. As she sat down where Luke gestured, he snatched the offending packet out of her hand and threw it into the fire. She exclaimed in horror and nearly threw herself after it, but Luke fixed her with another glare.

"I get that you are going to hang around and piss me off all day, and there's nothing I can do about it, but that -" he pointed at the fire, "- is unacceptable."

"But I was hu-"

Rey caught herself and fell silent, as if she didn't want to betray anything of herself. Luke just shook his head and started piling fish, some cheese, and bread on another plate, which he shoved into her hands. She stared at the plate as if she'd never seen real food before. Wait...

"Go on," he said, a little softer. "Have at it."

Rey looked a little apprehensive as she picked up a juicy piece of fish, dripping with fat. She brought it into her mouth slowly, and carefully let her teeth sink in. Luke couldn't help but stare at her. It was dawning on him that this really, truly, could be her first taste of freshly-cooked food.

Her eyes closed at the first bite. She made a little sound, one he usually associated with more private activities, and he could see her throat working as she swallowed quickly. The first bite was followed by the second, and then the third and so on, until she had devoured the entire slab of fish and was left licking her fingers. Luke cleared his throat and she suddenly stopped, cheeks a little red.

"You really are hungry, aren't you?" he asked.

"I just... What is this? I've never tasted anything like this before. What did you do to it?"

She sounded awed, and she reached gingerly for another chunk of fish, this time taking her time to chew on it and savor the taste.

"It's just fish. Fried and salted. You never had fish before?"

Rey swallowed, brushing the corner of her mouth with her thumb and then sucking it clean, efficiently and apparently unconsciously. She seemed trained on not wasting a modicum of food.

"Well, yeah, I've had powdered fish, sometimes, but it... doesn't taste anything like this."

His suspicions were pretty firmly confirmed. Still, he had to ask.

"Have you never eaten fresh food before?"

He couldn't keep up the gruff tone, and when she shook her head, there was a little pang to his heart he tried to ignore. Even when he had been a child, surrounded by heat and hard work, there was always food and drink, lovingly prepared and shared. She must be from the absolute Outer Rim, from one of the least developed worlds in the galaxy. A dry and desperate planet.

Force, he couldn't get weepy over her dietary history. She really was wearing him down.

"Go on then, try the cheese."

Rey looked at her plate, like trying to figure out what he meant.

"Cheese?"

"The light green one. It's made from milk. You can eat it with the bread, like this."

Her face outright lit up when she took her next bite. Luke sighed inwardly. She was definitely, definitely sleeping outside. But he already knew they would have breakfast together.


	8. The River Stone

The room smells like dust and something damp as Rey opens the door. It is both familiar and not; it has not been a long time since she last stepped into his quarters, but it might as well be aeons. So much has happened in between.

She stands in the doorway for a while, taking in the empty bed, carefully made, the stony benches and shelves, the cold fireplace. There are signs of life lingering there, still: an unfinished cup of tea on the small table, a scroll next to it. It’s like the caretakers have left this room alone. Like a sealed tomb. It somehow feels impersonal, and for a moment she thinks she shouldn’t have come. It’s not here she should be looking for him.

As she steps in and observes a little closer, she can see other things, too. There’s a broken hyperdrive regulator in the corner - an old model she can’t place, maybe even for a Class 1 fighter - clearly under repair. She can’t help but smile, and she bends down to brush its surface, leaves fingerprints in the dust. Of course he would have been occupying his time tinkering with old tech. Her own mind starts cataloguing the needed parts, clearly there’s been a lack of superconducting materials on the island -

”I hope you’re not here just to critique my handiwork.”

Rey startles. This is still new to her, Luke appearing suddenly, all glowing blue light.

She gets up and wipes her hands on her tunic.

”You’ve done a decent job, considering,” she gestures around.

He looks around as well, looking... wistful? Rey never spent enough time with him to read his expressions. She can feel him in the Force, though. There is a marked difference from how she can feel Leia, like a string connecting them that she can grasp and follow, tied to something warm and solid and real. He invades her mind slowly, flickering. Rey thinks of the ocean surrounding the island, lapping at the shore.

”What did you really come here for?” he asks, softly.

Rey hesitates. She’s not sure. There is nothing here, really, not anymore. It’s a miracle the planet has survived the battle and the wrath of Luke’s late nephew. She already salvaged the things that mattered, before. He knows all this, too.

”I don’t know,” she says truthfully. ”I just wanted to see it once more, I guess. I don’t think I’ll stay for long.”

The caretakers had gone, too. They hadn’t bothered to communicate to her _why_ , exactly, just that their work here was done.

”Well, maybe, before you go, you should have a parting gift.”

Luke’s ghost has wandered over to a shelf high on the wall. There are little knick-knacks there, seemingly trivial: little mechanical animals - a bantha made of bent durasteel strips - and shards of colored crystals. Rey smiles as she runs her fingers over them gently. Perhaps Leia should have them, yes.

”Maybe. But there’s something for you, too.”

”You need to stop reading my mind,” she says, feigning exasperation, but feeling curious. These are not her memories. Not hers to have.

Luke’s ghostly blue hand points to a small black stone at the end of the shelf. Rey picks it up: it weighs more than it looks, smooth and cool to the touch.

She tries to feel it in the Force. Nothing.

”What is it? Is it Force-sensitive?”

”Perhaps. I never quite worked it out,” he says with a smile of his own. His ghost definitely smiles more than he ever did.

Rey turns the stone around, wondering if he’s just joking. That, she witnessed before.

”I got it from my teacher, who got it from his Master,” he finally says.

”Who, Yoda?”

”No, old Ben Kenobi.”

Rey has heard of him, but knows very little of Kenobi and Luke’s time with him, and what she knows comes mostly from Leia.

”His Master, I believe, found it on his homeworld. It was a Padawan gift. Something Masters gave their students as they turned thirteen.”

Rey knows little of the Jedi of old, aside from Luke’s earlier disdain. He seems not too overly critical of this tradition, however.

”You are a little old for a Padawan gift... and as little a Padawan as I am a Master. But I think it might belong to you, now.”

Ghosts can’t cough, but Luke looks like he might make a little embarrassed noise if still alive. Rey’s smile widens.

She leaves the room with the stone tucked safely in her pocket, and the half-fixed regulator under her arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did the stone return to Obi-Wan? This author knows not. Perhaps he got it back before Anakin turned? Perhaps Vader kept it, gifting it back as a de-Vadered Force Ghost himself? Perhaps it isn’t the same stone at all... It’s the thought that counts, right?


End file.
